


Two-Factor Theory

by miserygrave



Series: Suspension Bridge Effect [2]
Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, by way that Jesse just prefers to have sex than deal with trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserygrave/pseuds/miserygrave
Summary: A few months ago he'd have beaten the shit out of someone if they'd told him he'd be a homo for Mr. goddamn White of all people, but here he is, butterflies in his stomach because he's waiting to seem not quite so desperate to text the guy. He thanks God it's a Sunday because that means Mr. White doesn't have work, so when he texts sometime in the afternoon, asking if he wants to come over, the answer he gets is “When?”





	Two-Factor Theory

**Author's Note:**

> More smut, but I guess I couldn't help some feelings and plot being thrown in.

He forces himself to not text until the next day, when all he really wants is for Mr. White to come over that same night and fuck his brains out. It's weird how _not_ weird he feels about thinking that and wanting that - he's never been interested in dudes before, and sure as hell not stuffy chemistry teachers that acted like jackasses most of the time. A few months ago he'd have beaten the shit out of someone if they'd told him he'd be a homo for Mr. goddamn White of all people, but here he is, butterflies in his stomach because he's waiting to seem not quite so desperate to text the guy. He thanks God it's a Sunday because that means Mr. White doesn't have work, so when he texts sometime in the afternoon, asking if he wants to come over, the answer he gets is “When?”

They agree on an hour from then and Jesse feels like he's a jittery teenager waiting to get his dick wet for the first time. It's kinda pathetic if he's being honest with himself. He just sits and waits, dick half hard just from knowing what's gonna happen if he gets his way, and has to suck on his thumb to stop himself from losing it. It's different planning it out, getting them together in a place that isn't the RV, a tiny, cramped, hot box. It's like they're making it into something real instead of it just being a feverish dream in the desert heat.

He clears his throat and feels the ache still there. His voice had just about failed him when he'd called his three friends-turned-employees, cracking and rough and almost dying. Thankfully they hadn't really questioned him on it because he hadn't thought of a good excuse. A part of him wonders if Mr. White’ll find it sexy hearing his fucked out voice, because the guy seems so straight-laced sometimes but Heisenberg must've come from somewhere. Like, maybe he’s secretly repressed or something. If that’s the case then Jesse will be perfectly happy helping him indulge in his wilder intimate side.

When he hears a knock on the door he just about jumps out of his skin and tries not to seem too desperate when he rips the door open and yanks Mr. White inside.

“Hello to you t-” is all he manages before Jesse pushes him against the closed front door and starts kissing him. Mr. White hums against his mouth and kisses back for a few minutes, broad palms holding him and manipulating him into place.

His lips are delightfully sore after his mouth was fucked mercilessly yesterday. Mr. White's rough facial hair and forcefulness sting and feel so fucking good that Jesse can't help from humping against him to try and soothe the blazing need to be closer.

Their lips break apart as Mr. White pulls his head back. “Is this what you want from me?” One hand reaches down to his ass and Mr. White thrusts a thigh up against his crotch as his hand forces him forwards. Jesse whimpers and can't stop from grinding against his leg, but yeah, it's _not_ what he wants actually, so he forces himself to shake his head and gets pulled away. The lack of touch is maddening but he bites his lip to stay focused.

“So what is it you want?”

Jesse loops his arms around Mr. White's neck and walks them back towards his bed that's laid out on the ground, sheets messy. When they reach it, Jesse gives him a quick peck and whispers, “Lie down.”

Mr. White looks at him, looks at the bed, and then slowly toes his shoes off and gets down on the mattress, lying back. Jesse lowers himself, straddling Mr. White's waist, bending over him to kiss some more. It feels so different from anyone he's kissed before, not that he'd ever kissed another man - not including that one time he and Badger had gotten so high they'd made out on his couch, giggling and grinning into each other's mouths. The feeling of facial hair was honestly way fucking hotter than anything else had ever been, than Mr. White really had any right to be, but whatever. He indulges.

His dick spurts some pre-come pathetically when one of Mr. White's warm hands soothingly cradle the front of his sweats, rubbing ever so gently. Jesse can't quite manage to stop what's happening, because he's been waiting for this for what feels like forever, and it's the first time all over again where Mr. White completely derails his plans and instead he has to settle for what he gets given.

It's hard to be mad though when the hand starts alternating between soft, gentle strokes and hard, almost cruel grinds of his palm. Mr. White's other hand rests heavily on the back of Jesse's head, holding him in place so he can't even escape to get air, to clear his head, to remember what he wants to do so badly.

He's left pliant, obediently letting Mr. White touch him how he wants, and moaning little “ah, ah, ah”s into Mr. White's mouth as he comes into his pants _again_. Seriously. It's getting kinda annoying washing it out, but he hadn't even bothered wearing boxers this time so at least he doesn't have to worry about them.

Mr. White relaxes his grip, lets Jesse lift his head and gulp down some needed air to make his head stop swimming. He feels the hem of his shirt get tugged up and fingers play with the band of his pants.

“Show me.”

Jesse trembles, head still floating in the clouds somewhere. He can't stop himself from wondering if he's this perverted with his wife too, if he rubs her pussy through her panties and makes her jizz in them and then show it off, or if he's just doing it to mess with Jesse's head because it's fucking working.

Of course he doesn't say no. He leans forward heavily on one arm, resting his forehead against Mr. White's as they both look down at where Jesse's tugged his pants down just enough to show off the little globs of semen sticking to Jesse’s dick and the inside of his sweats.

“That's good,” Mr. White rumbles, one of his fingers reaching out and trailing it lightly over his dick, swiping up some of the come and then with a split second of hesitation, he paints it on Jesse's lips.

There's no way he's like this with his wife, Jesse faintly thinks, moaning as his tongue flickers out to taste his own spunk. He dips his head down to curl his tongue around Mr. White's finger and sucks the last little bits of it off. Mr. White pulls his hand back, toys around his dick some more, and then let's Jesse suck it off again. They repeat that a few times until he’s clean and hotter under the collar than he was yesterday.

Under his ass he can feel the heavy, hot weight of Mr. White’s erection and he grinds back onto it. Mr. White swears and grabs at his hips, thrusting up against him. He wants it inside him so fucking bad.

That's it. He can't take it anymore. It's too fucking hot in this room, and his skin is crawling with this need to get closer. He quickly stands up to yank his shirt off and his pants down and off his legs, and snatches the bottle of lube that was shoved off in the sheets near Mr. White's head.

Mr. White looks dangerous again, his eyes so heavy and dark that Jesse feels somehow even more naked, like the guy can see inside him.

Mr. White’s hands run up his bare thighs, leaving prickles of goosebumps in his wake, before coming to rest on his hips, fingers pressing over the bruising from yesterday. “If you want to do what I think, I have to ask, are you sure?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Jesse groans, twisting under the sting of his bruises. The material of Mr. White's pants are a little rough on his skin, but he squirms on it anyways to feel the bulge resting under him. “Real question is, Mr. White,” Jesse says teasingly, voice all rough, licking his lips and tasting the bitterness still there, “are _you_ gonna fuck me or not?”

His answer is Mr. White throwing him down onto the bed next to him and rolling himself over to kneel in between Jesse's legs.

“Bring your legs up,” Mr. White orders, hooking his hands under Jesse's knees to encourage the correct position. Jesse eagerly obeys, pulling his knees towards his chest and spreading them. Mr. White grabs a pillow thrown off to the side and slides it under Jesse's hips.

The snap of the cap on the lube is like a gunshot in the quiet room. He watches Mr. White coat his fingers and rub them idly together. His mouth is so fucking empty, and he's about to be _fingered by his ex-chemistry teacher._ Fuck it. He lets one leg relax slightly and sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking on it while picturing himself sucking on a dick instead.

“If you want me to stop, just say so.”

Before he can register fully what's happening, the tip of Mr. White's pointer finger presses against his asshole, pushing in slowly. It's weird, but it doesn't hurt exactly. The finger moves back and forth, inching further and further in until he feels the rest of Mr. White's hand press against him.

“How are you?” Mr. White asks quietly, letting his finger rest inside.

Jesse laughs around his thumb. The wording is so bland that it's outright bizarre. Like they're meeting on the street and haven't seen each other for a while instead of getting ready to fuck. “'S fine. Keep going.”

The finger withdraws and he pushes back in with two, and yeah _that_ kinda hurts. The stretch is a little sharper, but it's not bad. He wiggles back against them curiously, and then almost jumps right out of his skin.

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” he groans helplessly. Mr. White doesn't move his hand away, and Jesse rolls his hips again and feels the burst of extreme pleasure spike up his spine again and his dick starts hardening up again. “Oh my God, yo, what is that?”

The fingers inside him curl and rub against that spot again and it feels fucking amazing, so intense that he almost can't handle it.

“This,” Mr. White says, circling the spot and making Jesse twitch like a puppet on a string, “is your prostate. When it's stimulated, it can feel quite pleasurable.”

Understatement of the fucking year. He feels like he's melting into a puddle and twisting up like a spring about to snap all at once and Mr. White won't _stop_ touching him there. It's like he's stroking his dick from the inside, jerking him off without even touching his cock, and after a few minutes of him shuddering and moaning, he feels his dick start leaking come over his stomach.

“Oh fuck - oh fuck, fuck,” Jesse groans over and over as Mr. White pushes against him inside and his dick twitches and drools string after string of come. He feels his balls tighten up, more and more, and then Mr. White pulls his fingers out. “Oh my fucking God, Mr. White…” His dick is still hard but his balls feel aching and empty. He didn't orgasm, but there's jizz all over his tummy and he's shaking like he did.

“Did that feel good?” Mr. White asks, running his hand through the mess on Jesse's stomach. Jesse tries to pretend he isn't excited to lick it off his hand - because that must be what's about to happen considering what Mr. White had him do earlier - but he feels himself start drooling with anticipation anyways. “Well?” Mr. White prompts, taking his messy hand and curling it around Jesse's dick instead of making him clean it up. “Did it feel good?”

It almost hurts, the slick slide of his hand, because he's really sensitive and it's just a hair shy of being way too much. His own spunk being used to jerk him off is kinda extremely sexy, so he endures the rollercoaster happening in his stomach and just follows the need to finally fucking orgasm.

“Jesse, answer me.” The hand clenches hard at the base of his dick just as he gets close.

“Uhh - what?” He can't fucking think, he just needs a little more, just a little, otherwise he's going to literally die from blue balls.

“Tell me it felt good.”

“Yeah,” Jesse whimpers, bucking up into his fist as it starts moving again, faster, rougher, makes him start babbling some more just to have it touch him like this forever. “Yeah it felt fucking good, felt amazing, you make me feel so fucking good, Mr. White -”

“That’s good. You're a good boy, Jesse. You can come now.”

He feels his orgasm rip out of him with the painfully good grip on him coaxing it out and the fucking _“good boy”_ turning his brain to the mindless need to obey, but he doesn't come any more. It's dry, and his dick jerks uselessly in the air as his balls draw up without having anything left in them to give.

It takes him a few minutes to come back to himself, and when he does he realizes that this goddamn bastard _ruined his plans again_. He pouts and tries to be mad but he just had a fucking spectacular couple of orgasms, and he feels almost spoiled because the few he’s had with Mr. White have all been mind-melting, but he really wanted to have sex and now he’s gonna be way too sensitive to and it’s kind of a piss off.

Like he can tell what he’s thinking, Mr. White smiles smugly at him. “You’ve never done this before, I assume?”

“Yeah, you assume right,” Jesse frowns. “Like you’re such an expert.”

“I went to university in the eighties. You’d be surprised.”

Jesse’s eyebrows fly towards his hairline. Uh. _Yeah_ , he would be surprised apparently, because the last fucking thing he would’ve ever expected is for Mr. White to basically tell him that he had gay sex in university because it was the eighties as if that explains everything.

“Come on, Jesse,” Mr. White scolds, lightly smacking him as he gets up to walk to the kitchen. “Shouldn’t you be happy I have experience?”

“I guess…” he agrees unhappily. It would’ve been pretty hot if they’d both been gay virgins, ‘cause then it would’ve tied them even closer together, but it _had_ turned out kinda nicely in his favour. “Are... we gonna screw now?” he asks even though he knows the answer.

Mr. White scoffs. “If we’re going to have sex, it’s going to be good for both of us. And right about now,” he says, grabbing a towel from next to Jesse’s sink and wetting it, “I somehow doubt it would be very good for you.” He walks back over to the bed and he’s still hard in his pants. Jesse feels a little bad, especially as he kneels down and carefully cleans Jesse off with the damp towel.

“Can I blow you then?” Jesse asks hopefully, running a hand up Mr. White’s inner thigh.

Mr. White looks like he’s contemplating it, so Jesse licks his lips and tries to look as seductive as possible. He gets a little laugh as his reward, but before he can get mad Mr. White says, “That sounds good to me.”

As he stands, Jesse gets up on his knees and waits impatiently for Mr. White’s belt to get undone and his pants to get pulled down so his dick springs free.

Any remaining irritation about not being fucked completely disappears as Jesse’s mouth starts watering. He dips his head forward without hesitation, and he hums happily as he feels Mr. White’s hands curl into his hair. Fuck, he is _never_ cutting his hair again, not for as long as he can enjoy the pinpricks of pain in his scalp as Mr. White tugs him around.

He could seriously get addicted to how full his mouth feels like this. Wrapping his mouth around Mr. White is the first time in a long time he’d finally felt like he wasn’t empty and it was fucking amazing.

Mr. White doesn’t wait as long before he grabs a firm hold and just starts fucking his mouth, letting Jesse moan, gag, and drool around him.

A few minutes later, Jesse feels Mr. White tense and hears his warning to swallow, and gets a mouthful or three of hot, salty come. He swallows, sniffles and rubs at his tears and drool and snot, and dizzily stands up as Mr. White tucks himself back in.

“‘S’it good?” Jesse asks, feeling kinda dirty for sucking off his married partner while sitting naked in his living room and needing some kind of reassurance.

“It was good, son.” He doesn’t know where that term of endearment came from either, like the good boy thing, and Mr. White looks so fond that Jesse feels himself full on blush, ears heating up and he rocks back on his heels to get away from it. The warm feeling in his chest is going a little far beyond being horny because of fucked up brushes with death, so he buries it down.

“Um,” he pauses. What now? That little warm part of him is screaming at him to find an excuse to keep Mr. White around for a little longer, maybe take him out to dinner like he’d imagined before, or just sit and talk or something even though he has no idea what they’d talk about.

The choice is taken away when Mr. White pets the side of his head and pats it before turning around and walking away to the front door. “I’ll see you for the next cook.”

And that’s it. Jesse grabs some fresh clothes and gets dressed and picks up his phone to check some texts from Skinny Pete.

* * *

Jesse gets back from having watched some guy get his fucking head crushed by an ATM with an armful of cash and a lot of guilt about leaving the kid behind but he knew he couldn’t get caught or else he and Mr. White would be screwed. He hadn’t even wanted to go and do it, but Mr. White had told him to go take care of business and Jesse had been allowed to suck his dick and then he got fingered against his kitchen counter so he wasn’t really in the proper mindset to say no.

He throws the cash on the floor, rips his hoodie and beanie off and dials Mr. White’s cell. It rings for a few heartstopping seconds as Jesse wonders if he just won’t pick up. But then there’s a click.

“Jesse, what is it?”

Every muscle in his body relaxes at his voice even as the adrenaline is still thrumming under his skin in little anxious skitters. “I - I went and took care of things like you said, but shit went real - real fucked up and I need you to come over here so I can just stop fucking losing it, okay?”

“Come over to your place? Are you alright?” The worry in Mr. White’s voice would be super nice to hear if he had even half a mind to pay attention to it.

“Yeah, I’m like, okay I guess. I’m not hurt, except - like I mean my head kinda hurts, but…” Jesse struggles not to cry as he replays Spooge’s head splattering out from under the ATM. “I just need you to be here.”

There’s a pause, as if Mr. White’s weighing him against his family, but then he says, “I’ll be right there,” and Jesse can finally breathe.

He shows up just a bit later, and Jesse wonders if he sped right over, but honestly he doesn’t care. He can’t even bother to keep track of time, and just throws himself at Mr. White once the door is open, hugging him and breathing raggedly against his neck on the stoop.

“It’s okay,” Mr. White says into his hair, walking them back inside slowly, one hand blindly reaching out to knock the door shut. “What happened? You said your head hurts, so let me see it.”

Jesse doesn’t want to let go so he shakes his head and just presses them completely together. Fuck, he wishes Mr. White had been with him. He never would’ve let his guard down, never would’ve let them get the upper hand - or so he wants so badly to believe. He shudders and the memory of the crushed head plays again in his head, a record skipping over a scratch, repeating the same line over and over. He _has_ to believe that Mr. White could’ve stopped it, could’ve helped him, otherwise… Otherwise how can he feel safe anymore?

“Jesse, come on, let me see.” He holds on and just lets himself revel in the warmth, the odd sort of security he feels. But then Mr. White adds, “Please?” And since when does Mr. White ever say please for anything? So he lets himself relax just the tiniest bit, allows Mr. White to manhandle his head so he can look him.

“I don’t see anything,” Mr. White says, just before his fingers brush over the sore spot and Jesse hisses in pain. “Oh! I’m sorry, son, didn’t mean to…” Jesse tunes him out and highlights the sweet little term of endearment. For a second Spooge’s death stops replaying and Jesse melts into Mr. White’s arms again.

“Can we just… just be like this, for a second?”

Mr. White hesitates, but he nods, and they stand there in his living room, sun shining happily inside as if someone didn’t just get their head crushed in like an empty soda can that day and everything’s okay. Jesse forces himself to breathe and focuses on Mr. White instead.

“What happened?” Mr. White asks, and Jesse feels his head turn and figures he’s looking at the pile of money sitting there.

Jesse shudders, and screws his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of the crush and splat of Spooge’s brains everywhere. He wants to get high so badly, just blaze the memories away but he can’t, especially not now that Mr. White’s here.

“That guy, the one who robbed Skinny, his wife, she fucking - she killed him. Crushed his head right in front of me with this fucking ATM they stole,” he admits, clutching onto the other man for dear life. “He died right there, right in front of my face, and they had this kid, and he was so -” He shudders and thinks about _what if he went back inside? What if he’s not safe? What if --_ but he can’t keep doing this, he’s going to fucking go crazy if he doesn’t stop himself, so instead he launches at Mr. White and kisses him hard.

“Jesse -” Mr. White manages before Jesse jams his tongue down his throat and cuts him off. It takes two strong hands to pull him off completely, and Mr. White says, “We have to talk about this, Jesse!”

“No, we fucking don’t, okay?” He’s desperate at this point. He needs to forget for just a second, needs to feel safe for just a fucking second. “Just help me, just - will you just give me a break?” He hears his voice break on that, feels his eyes start watering, and Mr. White looks at him like he’s a bomb that’s about to explode.

“I didn’t…” Mr. White trails off, holding him gently. “I’m sorry that happened. But you’re okay, right? Your head is okay?”

His head isn’t ever going to be okay ever again. But he nods. The whack he got isn’t anything compared to the nightmares he’s sure he’s going to be having for the next few weeks and right now he just wants to erase it with good feelings and good dreams with Mr. White.

“Okay, good, and this is what you need right now? You’re sure?”

He nods again and opens his mouth under Mr. White’s, letting him take over and let him stop thinking. This is nice. He’s always taken more of a backseat with his intimate partners, preferring to let them just take care of him. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but Mr. White prefers total control, so it works out.

And goddammit, he deserves to be taken care of, because he’d just seen something no one ever should have to all thanks to Mr. White.

Whatever. He’s not even angry. He feels numb and raw all at the same time and needs something to help balance himself out and if that’s Mr. White sticking his fingers up his ass and making him come all over himself then that’s what they’d fucking do.

As it is, they’re just standing in his living room making out, and it’s fine, it’s still hotter than hell feeling the scrub of his moustache against his lips, so Jesse lets it happen for as long as Mr. White is willing to be patient.

His patience doesn’t last long. It never does.

They walk together, attached at the mouth, at the hips, at everywhere Jesse can press them together, and they move towards the bed still laying in the middle of his floor. He hasn’t bothered putting an actual frame together, hasn’t really accepted this duplex as his new home even though the girl next door was kinda cute and -

His thoughts dissolve as Mr. White lays them down and settles in between his pliant, open legs and grinds their crotches together. He hooks his legs up and behind Mr. White’s back as he thrusts in, like he’s pretending to fuck Jesse right then and there, and it’s enough to make him stop feeling queasy and start feeling really, really hot.

He almost doesn’t register when Mr. White pulls his own jacket off and throws it aside. That’s the first time he’s ever started taking clothes off, other than his shoes that last time, and Jesse starts getting excited.

“Mr. White, can we, y’know,” he bites his lip and shudders as their hips meet again forcefully. “I-I wanna fuck.”

His shirt and pants get all but torn off of him. When he stares up at Mr. White breathlessly, the guy stares down at him with those dark eyes. “You did a good job, Jesse. You’re a good boy..”

He feels his dick twitch hard and his stomach spasms with arousal. “I did a good job,” he repeats numbly. _Good boy_ , echoes in his head so loudly he feels like everything else is turning to static.

“You did a _very_ good job,” Mr. White confirms, one hand heavily stroking him, and all the memories of death and dirty kids fly out the window. He stares transfixed at Mr. White as he caresses him and tells him, “You’re the only one I can rely on, Jesse. I trust you to do what has to be done.”

The tiniest twinge inside of him wonders why death has to be part of what Mr. White relies on him to handle, but he crushes it down to savour how fucking _good_ it feels, how amazing it is that Mr. White trusts _him_ . Him, a junkie, a loser, a damn-near dropout. He trusts _him_.

So he spreads his legs further, gently grabs Mr. White’s hand and pulls it down further down in between the crux of his legs.

“Please, Mr. White,” he whispers. He needs to be close, needs to have Mr. White press so far into him that he doesn’t feel as alone and scared as he does right now.

Quickly, Mr. White reaches over and snatches up a well worn bottle of lube that Jesse has lying around his bed - because yeah he’s been jerking himself off almost religiously while thinking about their other trysts. After he’d gotten fingered, he’d been so curious he tried doing it himself but he’d worked himself to near tears without ever once touching that spot, so he’s fucking ready for this. If his fingers feel that good, his dick is gonna make him forget everything that happened, hopefully it'll even make him forget his own name.

Mr. White squeezes some lube out onto his fingers and rubs them against his asshole. “Ready?”

“Fuck yes.”

Two fingers push against him, slowly pressing further and further in. He tries to stop himself from whimpering but the burn is a lot sharper skipping straight to two fingers. It hurts, but then the fingers crook up and the hurt mingles with a burst of brain melting pleasure.

“That feels so good, Mr. White, so fucking _good_.”

Mr. White smiles at him and stretches his fingers apart, spreading him open bit by bit. It feels really weird, the dull ache being randomly interspersed with the euphoria of his prostate being rubbed. It’s the perfect mixture and Jesse’s starting to get a little worried he’s gonna jizz before he gets what he wants. _Needs_.

“Please, Mr. White, come on -”

“Shh, Jesse. If I don’t do this properly, it’ll hurt you.” Seemingly at odds with his words, the fingers pull out and Jesse clenches down at the slight emptiness, but then three push back in.

He groans loudly, bringing a hand up to bite into the meat of his palm. The burn is sharper, and when Mr. White stretches it hurts - and then it feels _so good_ when he touches his prostate again. After a few minutes he can’t even fucking tell the difference between the pain and the pleasure, both of them mixing together into a gooey mess inside of his guts.

Without consciously meaning to, he starts rolling his hips to meet Mr. White’s slow presses, needing to feel more of the burn, more of the bliss, all of it wrapping itself around the base of his spine with heat.

“Mr. White,” he mewls, “I’m gonna come if you keep -” His voice cuts off into a high-pitched whine as Mr. White’s free hand wraps around his balls and sharply tugs down. “Fuck, oh my god, _fuck_ , please, please just fuck me already.”

His wish finally gets answered as Mr. White pulls away and he watches dazedly as the other man starts unbuttoning his shirt. Oh fuck yeah. Jesse sits up and scrabbles to help get his belt undone, and together they messily pull his clothing all off, until they’re equally naked. All that’s left is for Mr. White to take his glasses off and carefully place them next to the bed and they’re ready.

“Condom?” Mr. White asks, kissing his neck.

Jesse blinks. Oh shit. Condoms were important. Where the fuck are his condoms? He looks to the side of the bed hoping to somehow see a box of them next to his box of tissues and Mr. White’s glasses, but there’s nothing there.

“Jesse?” Yeah, he’s thinking, but apparently he thinks for a bit too long because Mr. White pulls away and looks concerned. “You do have one, right? Because, if not, I -” He shrugs. “It’s not safe.”

Because of Jesse and the kind of person he is, goes loudly unsaid. He can’t exactly blame him though, not even he’s sure what kinds of fucked up shit he could have gotten himself into during all his blackout periods, but that doesn’t stop it from stinging just a bit.

Mr. White smiles at him consolingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good.” And his fingers slip back towards his ass.

“ _Wallet_!” he shouts, making Mr. White jerk back a bit in surprise. “In my wallet, there’s one. Just, just one second -” he quickly digs around the covers until he grabs it. He opens it with shaky hands and thanks God there’s one in it. He tears open the package and grabs it out.

He gets a firm kiss to his cheek and the condom gets taken out of his hand. He watches Mr. White roll it down carefully, get some more lube and stroke himself, entire body tense as he runs his hand up and down in controlled motions, eyes watching Jesse’s face with such a burning expression that he feels his body heat up under it. Jesse has to swallow before he starts drooling watching him.

“Are you ready, Jesse?” he asks, moving between his legs and pulling them up and open, pressing the tip of his dick just barely against him, gently throbbing in the heat.

Oh fuck yeah, he’s ready. His heart is beating so fast he's kind of worried that he might just pass out before they get to the main course, but then Mr. White just rubs his tummy gently, watching him with a patient look and somehow it actually helps calm him down. He shudders out a breath and rolls his head back. “Just do it already, _please_.”

Mr. White begins to move in, the hot tip of it breaching him and even with all that stretching it still aches, feels just on this side of uncomfortable but his brain is still messed up and all of it ends up feeling so fucking good he comes all over his stomach before Mr. White is even halfway in. He shudders and shakes so hard from the pure emotional high he can't even think of what he was so fucked up about before. With a slight clench he feels the throbbing dick inside of him and it's so good, they're so _close_ , they're almost completely bonded together that Jesse starts crying. He just needs a little more. Just a bit and then they'll be alright. He'll finally be alright.

But the push in stops. With his legs laced loosely behind Mr. White's back he can feel the tension from the effort that Mr. White's exerting to stop himself from moving, so Jesse tries to pull him in but the guy doesn't budge an inch.

“Come on, please, it's fine, yo -” Jesse begs between sniffles, trying to thrust himself down onto his cock but Mr. White is holding him so tightly that it hurts - and feels _amazing_ \- and his face looks downright deadly. It's sexy as hell. He knows that Mr. White looks this way when he's serious, when he wants to hurt someone, or prove something, but he's safe around Mr. White. He's totally safe here. So he relaxes and waits for him to do what needs to be done, because no matter what cruelty or sacrifice Jesse has to endure, in the end Mr. White always takes care of him.

“If we keep going, it might not feel good for you anymore. You're already crying.” The fingers on his hips don't release though, and the tension is still running along Mr. White's whole body.

Jesse licks his lips, tastes his own salty tears, and asks, “Do you wanna stop?”

Mr. White's jaw works for a moment, muscles twitching under the skin, quietly contemplating what to say, and eventually he just shakes his head 'no’.

“Me neither. I just need to be close to you right now, Mr. White. I can take a little pain, y'know, so… I want you to feel good too.” He's still crying but it doesn't matter. He tries to look at pathetic as he can. “I just need to be close. I need to forget.”

With his permission, Mr. White starts moving in again so carefully and deliberately that Jesse can feel every last fucking bit of it. For a long moment of nothing but utter sensation it almost feels like it's never going to stop, it'll just keep pushing and pushing inside of him, filling him up until there isn't any room to breathe. But the moment passes and Mr. White bottoms out until his sweaty balls press right up against Jesse's ass.

“Are you okay?”

He faintly realizes he's shaking, and still sorta crying, but there's nothing in the world that could bring him down right now - not the knife's edge balance of too much and not enough that he's riding, not the fact he watched someone die, _nothing_. He rocks his hips up against Mr. White's even though there's nothing left to take, feels the pleasurably full throb of him, and finally he’s content.

“I’m okay,” he breathes, locking his legs around Mr. White’s waist to keep him from pulling away.

“I’m going to start moving, Jesse.” The low growl and shiver along the spine under his legs spells it all out. He’s losing composure, and Jesse is _so_ ready to see what that looks like.

He reaches up, hooks his arms around Mr. White’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss and hums with satisfaction as he starts thrusting in. They’re so close, tangled up together, attached at the hips and mouth and all that hot, sweaty air trapped in between their bodies making him feel ready to melt. It’s everything Jesse needs right now.

Mr. White circles his hips, driving himself in at different angles, digging until he hits just the right angle and fucks right into Jesse’s prostate. The sound he mewls into Mr. White’s mouth is fucking humiliating, but then Mr. White does it again and Jesse stops caring about being embarrassed. He digs his heels in and can’t quite stop himself from scratching Mr. White’s back in desperation to feel it more.

The intensity of the sensation is overwhelming, each burst of it feeling like a hit of meth, letting him ride this insane high, coasting along the wave higher and higher until it felt like he’d never come back down. He's getting a little hard again, dick trapped between their stomachs as they move together.

He claws a bit more as Mr. White starts moving faster, harder, and his arms are ripped away.

“No marks,” Mr. White orders, then crushing their mouths back together before Jesse can ask why. Dimly, he figures it’s so his wife doesn’t see, and then Mr. White clamps his hands down to the bed, holding his wrists so tightly it hurts. He tugs at them a bit, and feels a confused sense of security - like he’s safer like this, but he doesn’t know why that makes him feel that way.

“I'm close.”

Jesse can't quite help but whine. He's not ready for it to be over so soon. It's starting to get maybe a little _too_ overwhelming, but it's done its job perfectly at keeping him in the moment and not letting him think about… He shakes his head and rolls his hips up to meet Mr. White's, trying to burn the way it feels into his brain.

Mr. White breaks the kiss and bites his neck. Looks like the “no marks” rule only applies to him, Jesse thinks, but there's no annoyance in it. Teeth worry at his skin and he just knows he's gonna have a hickey stamped into him, and that's just fine with him.

“Jesse…” Mr. White's breath gusts across the wet mark on his neck, sending a shiver down his back. Then he groans and his hips stutter a few times.

For a while they lie there, panting and putting themselves back together. After a few moments Mr. White pulls out and leaves Jesse stinging and aching, hissing at the emptiness.

“Does it hurt much?” His fingers brush his opening, making him spasm a bit from the tenderness.

“Uh, not too much,” Jesse answers, feeling still a little out of his mind. There's still tension in his stomach, and he realizes that he's still hard.

Mr. White smiles at him. “Why don't you touch yourself for me?”

Jesse blinks and prickles with heat. He wraps his hand around his stiff prick and breathes harshly as Mr. White watches him. He figures it should probably be awkward, neither of them talking or doing anything except for him lying there, fucked out, jerking his over-sensitive dick and Mr. White just _looking_ at him, but it's not. It makes him feel like a mega perv and he's kinda ridiculously into it.

And then Mr. White starts talking. “Did that feel good for you?” Jesse nods. Fuck yeah, of course it did, he didn't even last a minute before coming all over himself. “That's good. You deserve to feel good. I want to make you feel good. Do you know why?”

Jesse licks his lips and feels his stomach tighten. “Because... I'm a good boy?” he asks carefully.

Mr. White beams at him. “That's right, Jesse. You're a very good boy, and you deserved a reward.” Jesse feels his chest warm up and he curls his tongue in his mouth so it feels less empty. “You're such a good listener, and you're very brave. I trust you, you know that don't you?” He nods again, whimpering as the words bring him right to the edge. “I’m proud of you.”

His entire body twitches as he comes over his fist, stroking until it hurts, eyes rolling in his head as he tries to figure out why it’s so fucking _good_ when Mr. White talks to him like that. As the stress bleeds out of him and a warm, bone-deep glow rushes over him he figures it doesn’t matter. He snuggles into Mr. White’s warm arms and within a few minutes he passes out into a dreamless sleep.

When he wakes up late into the night feeling more rested and more stable than he has for awhile, he’s been cleaned off, tucked into bed, and Mr. White is gone.


End file.
